


The Night After

by explodingnebulae



Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood Drinking, F/M, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23752357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explodingnebulae/pseuds/explodingnebulae
Summary: A vampire cannot take its own life. That was the rule. Why should she die if he did not?
Relationships: Dracula & Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula & Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing, Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	The Night After

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Dracula fanfic as well as my first fic in well over a year. There will be two other installments after this one. I hope you all enjoy!

_The Kiss of the Vampire._

It was an opiate of such potency found nowhere on Earth. Not a hallucinogen on the planet came close to what Zoe Van Helsing experienced the first time Count Dracula sank his teeth into her veins. Immediate, possessive, as he drank her. He was the overly proud owner of an air of smug satisfaction with every intention of draining her. Or at least rendering her to the feeble state to which he had Agatha over a century ago. Both Zoe and Dracula knew he would have succeeded had it not been for the corruption flowing through her veins. 

The second time had been unconventional and not her own flesh. She had done what no other had done before as she lifted the vial to her lips. She had thrown her head back and the viscous liquid eased its way into her body. The energy that surged through her veins overloaded her body, catapulted her into another life entirely. In that moment of confusion, her own voice called out into the darkness. A light in the void beckoned her near. Zoe chased it without hesitation and made a grand connection to the impossible. 

The connection came with blinding, ineffable truth. Muddied memories crowded inside of Count Dracula’s blood and overflowed into hers. Clarity came with recognition. The musty smell of ancient texts and drying herbs in the lowest level of the nunnery brought Zoe to her senses. It was there she saw them. Dracula and his ever curious, ever persistent, opposition, Sister Agatha Van Helsing. 

Zoe could feel his interest in Agatha welling within her as if it were her very own. He was drawn to her as a moth to flame, curiosity lit under him like a match. Her eyes flitted to Agatha as Dracula sank his teeth into the faithless nun’s neck. What was it in those familiar eyes?

She knew her ancestor had not been predisposed to fear from the tales she heard. Zoe also knew that there was an unfamiliar stirring in the pit of her stomach when Agatha looked to her. In that moment, Zoe and Agatha became inseparable, though Zoe clung to her self identity as tightly as she could. There was no denying her halved existence melded with another and became one. Dracula was right. 

Zoe was mentally torn to pieces as Agatha’s thoughts crowded her brain and Dracula’s desires clouded her body. He was drinking his fill and Agatha felt curiosity, excitement, and the smallest bit of arousal. 

Dracula, on the other hand, experienced a rush as he drank his fill. He was more than the beast that this Agatha saw him as, or at least he believed as much, and he could prove it. He dug his teeth in deeper, grabbing her by the waist to hold her in place, not that she went anywhere. Zoe felt his excitement, his high, his pleasure in feeding off of her. If her once saved soul had any hidden temptations left, he wanted nothing more than to pull them forth and corrupt her to the bitter end. Their game began.

The third was something else entirely. Winning the game they had played for over a century had freed her of the rules. Breath labored and spirit dim, she shed herself of all tedious humanities; Zoe stripped of all reservations as she closed her eyes.

Through the shadows behind her eyelids, she saw Dracula draw closer to her. She had felt his arms around her, under her, and then sweeping her hair from her neck. Her dark world played out in slow motion, infinite in the few moments that ticked by with no heed for human or vampire. Pillow soft in their pliancy, Dracula’s lips lowered to the exposed skin, shakily placed a tender kiss carrying attentive adoration against her throat, and sank his teeth into her jugular.

She had not known a second of darkness as the Sun burst around them. No longer did she feel his teeth in her flesh. Rather, Zoe felt him atop her, within her, surrounding her, flooding every sense as he consumed every drop of her. Free of consequence, free of pride and of limitation, she surrendered herself to his gentle caresses. She savored every sweet spark as his fingertips brushed down her flank and left raised, excited skin in their wake. 

Dracula coaxed soft sighs from her throat as he pressed his tip against her entrance. Through the garish light surrounding them, Zoe took note of the devotion entrapped in his amber eyes and marveled at how they shone like jewels in the sun’s light. The coals had at last caught fire and he burned with them.

Zoe tested her faculties and reached for his face. He leaned into her touch, closed his eyes, and let her merciful touch guide his lips to hers. Never had she thought of him as tender, but as he sank himself into her with a slow roll of his hips, all she could feel was rapture, devotion, reverence. Yet again, Dracula offered Zoe everything. 

Stripped of feeling indestructible and lain bare before her, he gave all to her; all of those tedious, complicated human emotions that festered somewhere trapped within him, finally ruptured to the surface. His own Pandora’s Box betrayed him as his head dropped to the nape of her neck. A groan sounded against her as he slowly drew back his hips and rocked into her.  
In their shared final dream, he removed his lips from her neck and ran his nose along her cheek, stilling himself within her to allow her time to adjust to him. Zoe lifted her hand from his cheek drenched in sunlight and carded her fingers through the thick black mess atop his head. She disheveled its careful placement with a sense of pride because only she could do that. He was at last undone for her, deconstructed to the needs not of a vampire, but of a man. 

A soft breath of laughter crept along her jaw when she tugged the hairs at the back of his neck. He brought his head up to look at her and saw the clear self-congratulatory simper spread all the way to the corners of her eyes. 

“Agatha Van Helsing, whatever shall I do with you?” he entreated just as cheekily as he withdrew from her just enough for his cockhead to teeter within her slick entrance. He moved before Zoe could find an answer through lust-drown thoughts. Dracula rolled his hips against hers and sheathed himself to the hilt in one movement.

Always the persistent opposition, Zoe tried to answer through the gasp escaping her lips. “I have a f-few id..ideas.” 

He drove himself into her again and watched as she lost herself to him. His wicked doubter, his discoverer, his only equal, and now his conqueress. She was just as much his Eureka moment as he was hers, and he showed her with each movement. A few more deep thrusts and she tightened her fingers in his hair, gasping in blended languages as he rocked deeper within her body.

“Something like that?” His breath played along her lips before he captured them and his hand tangled into the thick of her hair. He didn’t want an answer from her and she found no reason to give one. Only when he descended to her neck to gently nip did reality hit her.

“This...isn’t real…” 

She clung to the feeling of him inside of her as he stretched and filled her. She wanted it to be real. The words they exchanged were not what either had anticipated as they caught each other’s lips. Zoe pushed into the kiss and parted his lips, drinking him in as their corporeal forms withered. Dracula pulled away from the kiss to watch their climax in the golden light around them. She tightened around him as though it were a command for him to join her as she dug her nails into his back.

The end was nearing as they laid exhausted in the sun’s light, too tired and too comfortable to move. The limit of his capability, she now knew, was his humanity. With it she brought him to his knees. Dracula, the beast who feared death, wanted nothing more than to spend his final moments as a man. 

The last thing her eyes would ever see was the humanity left in his. 

Darkness followed the sunlight and she found herself drained, gasping for air as she was left alone in the silence. Her voice reverberated through her head as she called to him in the depths. She had felt this once before, the numb hand of death gripping tightly at her throat. 

The confusing hum of silence grew louder in her head, dragging her deeper into its hold. Zoe had transgressed God beyond salvation and knew too well that Hell resided squarely on Earth itself. If she were to die, an empty blackness seemed appropriate, if not a little cruel on the universe’s part.

She was ready to accept her fate. And she would have, had it not been for the sharp pain that shook through her in the darkness. Her body ached and screamed for some sense of relief. She knew pain through the centuries, felt it in her cancer, in her final breaths aboard the _Demeter._ This, however, was something beyond that; something entirely hellish.

Zoe Van Helsing was still alive. 

All around her was the thick, metallic stench of her own blood. Zoe forced her eyes open and focused on the faculties she could recover. The flat around her was just as silent as her mind had been, the warm light of the afternoon pouring in from the large window. 

“Dr…” she tried her voice as she looked to her side. Her vision was tinged, blurry, fading, but she saw him beside her, unnervingly still. He would always remain so steady, Zoe could not tell if he was dead or still a member of the undead. Her focus failed her then as another surge of pain twisted through her body. Zoe’s vision slipped into blackness once more, but she attempted to utter his name as she reached a finger toward him. “Dracula?” 

Time whirled around her as the abyss seized her once again. Through careful thought and reason, she knew she was not dead, but she was not dreaming. Unconscious and unable to comprehend the world around her, Zoe decided to focus on breathing, regardless of how painful it was. Occasionally, she thought she heard his voice muttering something or the click of his overpriced Italian shoes against the floor. However, the echoing within her head made formal thought impossible.

_Breathe._

The only word that kept reverberating through her head with any clarity.

_Breathe._

She could not help but wonder when it would be the last time she instructed herself.

_Breathe._

The sound of running water and a feeling of warmth rushed over her. No longer did she smell the foul stench of blood as she felt herself lowered. 

An image in her mind, like a photograph taken upon dropping a camera, flashed then. She caught sight of what appeared to be a bath, an open vein on a familiar forearm, and more red than she ever cared to see. The background static within her brain made piecing the puzzle together entirely impossible, but she had an idea. 

It wasn’t long after she saw his arm in her mind that the smell of blood followed. The scent was pungent, as strong as the blood she drank to discover his truths, but she could not shrink away. 

_Drink, Zoe. This might be the only thing that saves you._

The tender note in the voice she heard in her mind was a hand in the murky water, reaching for her, fingertips gliding against fingertips, but not enough to grasp onto. She knew then, with great certainty, that Dracula was alive. She also knew that he was attempting to get her to drink blood in an attempt to save her own. With this knowledge came a feeling of helplessness as she could taste the rush of hot liquid sticking to her tongue as her body choked it down. 

_Asta e, draga mea._

The foreign words were the last she heard as she slowly sank into a humming slumber. Her fear was not as prevalent as it had been in the moments before. The dark was inviting now, warm, and as her mind slowly shut down, she pieced together what he had said. 

_That’s it, my darling._

\--------

Zoe awoke with a start, eyes wide and searching, a gasp tumbling from her parted lips. Her heart thrummed wildly at her breast as she looked around the unfamiliar room. A bedroom, and a lavish one at that. Silk sheets, canvases of original paintings, and such dark drapes it was as though staring into a pit. 

“Easy now, you don’t want to overdo it quite yet.” Dracula’s voice came from somewhere to her right. He stood in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms folded neatly across his chest. Those arms...she knew how they felt around her and nearly found herself aching for them. Luckily, he was crossing over to her. “I always wanted to test the legend but never found anyone worth saving before.”

“What legend is that?” she inquired plainly, as though she wasn’t marveling over her own resurrection. She noticed her voice carried a slight accent in its breadth, but took no further interest in it. “That a vampire’s blood can be used to heal humans?”

“You knew and you weren’t going to tell me?” He feigned offense as he sat on the edge of the bed, that smug grin of his reappearing on his face. “Dr. Helsing, I’m crushed.”

Dracula leaned in, his smile softening marginally as Zoe slowed her breathing and rested her head against the padded headboard. Of course it would be padded. How grotesquely self-indulgent, but it made her inflow of inquiries more comfortable as they entered her mind.

“What happened? How are either of us alive? What time is it?”

“Vampires cannot be responsible for the taking of their own lives. I suppose it extends even to poison. As to why you’re alive... I think we covered that,” he expounded, moderate fascination snaking through his voice. Dracula made a habit of downplaying his true excitement, but with more of his blood inside of her than ever, Zoe knew he was positively ecstatic at the discovery.

“It’s not much after two o’clock now, you were asleep for hours,” noted the Count idly. “I left you to rest, Zoe. I couldn’t exhaust you as I had in the last dream.”

“But that dream…”

“Ah, yes.” The clarity she found within his eyes as he recalled the moment was startling. “Had you expected anything less of me?”

“You’re usually far too clever for something so _human_. Not that I’m complaining.” She felt stronger, more confident, and more invirogated than she had in recent months. The thrumming in her breast and humming in her veins was no doubt from his blood. She hadn’t felt so alive in what felt like a lifetime. It was as Jonathan Harker had explained so long ago in his recount of his time at Castle Dracula. _Fresh blood._

For once, Count Dracula did not have a smart remark. Instead, he moved closer to her on the mattress, careful not to disturb the sheets. He was close enough for her to feel his breath as he spoke. “If we were finally going to die, I wanted it to be memorable. You had won the game and all I wanted was to remember the sunlight around me, Zoe.”

_And what else is sunlight but the face of one’s beloved?_

He did not back away when he was done explaining. Not that Zoe wanted him to. On the contrary, it would have seemed. There was something deeper in those dark eyes of his and it set her alight. With her strength returning to her, she lifted her head from the headboard and reached out for Dracula’s face. She could justify it to herself now, for the bridge had already been crossed when they were dying. They gave into carnal desire and every sin committed was lain bare. Two souls twisted by fate, drawn nearer, and melded together. It was a deeper and darker truth than Zoe had been able to admit to herself until she had felt her life ebbing away. 

If she wanted to explore that truth further, she would have to accept her actions entirely as her own. The sacrifice of the moral high ground was not exactly a loss, and had he been able to read her thoughts, he would undoubtedly agree. 

She craved something more with Count Dracula, devourer of lives, and she would carry that sin on her soul for eternity. Her own murderer was mere inches from her face and she felt no fear. The buzz of excitement and uncharted territory, yes. But Zoe had no fear for any possible outcome because she knew herself and she finally knew him.

“That was merely a dream, Count,” came Zoe's thickly accented breath. She bent in nearer to him, as close as the day in the convent, breath just as thready, the energy equal but entirely different. He did not look at her like the frenzied beast, but something more than human.

The prince of shadows, indeed. She marveled as she took in his countenance. Her interest in him was very similar to what it had been all those years ago. She wanted to see the true limit of his capability. 

The rules of the beast no longer applied, however. They were known to both beast and master. Dracula and Zoe knew his fears and his weaknesses. He could wield his fears now, fight them and weaponize them. In his understanding, Dracula was given great power. But in those weaknesses came truths. With that, she had more power than he ever could.

“Agatha…” 

He was but a man possessive of many all too human fears but powerful beyond measure. What could have been greatness was squandered by bloodshed and murder, but he still managed to retain something resembling humanity. It was staring at her now, full of longing and heady desire, and she was not about to lose sight of it yet. Knowing that he was the last thing she was going to feel before she died opened a truth for her she hadn’t wanted to address. He was temptation incarnate; beautiful, dangerous, an adversary and a partner all at once. 

Temptation was nothing more than the body’s natural curiosity. Categorized not as sin, but as personal science. It was something she discovered so long ago, a young nun drawn to everything dark and evil.

A puff of breath through his nostrils pulled her out of her thoughts and focused her on the way his lips were parted just enough to expose his teeth. Completely human, save his canines. She flitted her gaze to his and noticed they were darker now, drenched in something more primal, but not yet animal. 

“You’re far too composed,” she mocked cheekily as she skated her fingers through his thick head of charcoal locks. He looked better that way, in her opinion. Messy, wanton, and all for her eyes alone. With a grin, she settled her hand on the back of his head and gently pulled him closer. “Come, boy.”

He bent to her will without a second of deliberation and Zoe revelled in the way his teeth played at her bottom lip. When he released it from his grip, she took a couple experimental nips of her own, drew his lip away from his mouth, released it, and then kissed him hard. Wasting not a moment, Dracula pulled her closer and let out a small groan in the depths of his throat. Her fingers found purchase wherever they could, his hair, his shirt, his neck. Anywhere she could find more contact with him, she did, eagerly, hungrily. 

Zoe’s mouth chased after his when he moved out of the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. His amused breaths came out in erratic heaves, his mouth wavering between open and closed.

“Dr. Helsing, while you are the one with the degree, I have tasted many doctors, and I know the best thing for you right now is not sexual intercourse,” he orated breathlessly, voice tinged with the subharmonics of his vampiric growl. Despite his tone, he sounded out of time with his terminology. No one had said sexual intercourse to her since her Year 8 teachers. Though, she couldn’t deny it was a slightly endearing note on a rather grim sentence. 

“As I’m sure being eaten was the best thing for them at the time?” Zoe breathed back, voice heavy with her old Dutch accent. “Concern yourself with your own well-being, Count.”

She reclaimed his lips and moved the covers that had been on her lap to move closer to him. He grinned into the kiss as she straddled him, marveling at all the wicked sin resting in her soul. How beautiful her defiance was.

Dracula placed his hands on either side of her hips, gently massaging the bony protrusions with the pads of his thumbs. Perhaps, she should have been self-conscious of her withered form. However, the hypnotic combination of his thumbs’ motion and the intermittent pressure he would apply, kept her mind quite preoccupied. His dark brows knit together as he took in the sight of her and she felt like a piece of art in a museum. So infinitely black were those eyes of his in the dim light of the bedroom, she swore she saw all of time and space in them.

“Perhaps I’ve given you too much of a good thing,” he muttered with undercurrents of smug pleasure lining his voice. Those thumbs of his dug once again into her flesh as he moved his lips to her neck. “...if you’re feeling this well.”

"It is a possibility we can't rule out, but I wouldn’t question it." She felt the cold passage of air as he breathed in her scent, her pulse involuntarily quickening. Then, just where it had been cold a moment prior, he set his lips upon her flesh. She gasped as he explored the expanse, all teeth and tongue as he nipped and sucked his way up and down her jugular. The gasp turned into a moan when Dracula moved a hand up her torso, grasping at her breast as he planted a slow kiss at her jaw.

“You smell like me,” he whispered thickly, voice heady with lust and all the desire to possess her more than flowing through her veins. “Your scent is nearly indistinguishable from mine.”

She had not heard him speak to her like this since the convent, so breathy, so full of need. The only difference was he was driven by passion alone. Hunger and the desire for destruction had nothing to do with it. That tone had driven her mad then, though she would not admit it, and it continued to drive her mad into the twenty-first century. Zoe discovered something interesting when she ground her hips against his in an attempt to thwart his passes. She felt his concealed hardness between her legs as she descended upon his lap. He rubbed squarely against her core and she clutched at him to find her bearings. 

“So, vampires can experience sexual arousal, not just hunger. Very interesting,” she noted as casually as she could. She needed to always be the scholar, always needing more information, always needing more of...whatever it was he was about to do. A gasp escaped her throat as he had balled her hair into his fist and drew her head back, surrendering the skin to him and with it, her self-control. 

_“Godverdomme!”_ Zoe groaned and rocked her hips against him as his mouth traveled from her throat to her collarbone. He paused for a moment, deliberated, and with a hum of decision, he bit her hard with his human teeth. She writhed against the sensation, pushing herself closer to him, to his surprising warmth, and closer to that horrendously glorious mouth of his. _“Meer…”_

“Ah. _Acolo ești, mireasa mea finală,”_ beamed Dracula after placing a gentle kiss at the new mark. He trailed his hand slowly back down her torso, only to snake his hand under her shirt and allow for direct contact.

The comment sent her mind reeling and she pushed him onto the mattress below. How dare he make such a smug, presumptuous remark while she was so undone? God, it drove her mad in every possible way and she didn’t know if she wanted him in her or in the ground.

“I am not your bride,” she voiced hotly and brought her hand to his throat, knowing it was just for show. Zoe could see the mixture of emotions dancing on his face and found the most prominent to be pride. The egoism that made up his person repulsed and drew her in even more had her mind whirling.

She rubbed her pelvis against his restrained cock and watched as the impish light in his eyes once more turned dark. Zoe lowered herself until her hair cascaded around their faces, her lips close enough to brush against his. “Count Dracula, let me make one thing very clear to you. I will never be one of your brides.”

The distance between them, however small, felt too great. She wanted to be closer, she wanted whatever shirt she was wearing--his, she concluded--on the floor and everything he had on torn from him. Whatever disbelief she held in her soul was drowned in desire for the monster of a man beneath her, and she knew her disposition betrayed her. She could not dissuade her hips from rocking slightly above him, just as she could not control the shallow, hot breaths that splayed across his face.

“A queen is but a bride for a night,” he concluded with a sobering breath as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. Her body buzzed with pleasure as he pressed himself against her, his constrained hardness begging to be freed.

_A queen._

If she could describe how she felt using only one word, queen was definitely fitting. She sat atop the prince of vampires and had him harder than stone. He made no move to claim her from below, surrendering his power to her; he only gently reminded her that he wanted her, terribly, as he ground his clothed cock against any part of her he could. Soft growls escaped his lips as she tightened her fingers around his throat and took his mouth with her own.

“Careful, boy. I need to make you last.”

She moved her hand from his throat to his button up as she sat up. Zoe wasted not a second untucking it from his slacks and looked impatiently at the buttons. She knew what awaited her beneath the fabric, the furred chest speckled with scars and the frame of a five hundred year old warlord. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” 

She paid no mind to his inquiry and started to undo each button with a focus she did not know she could have. One by one, the unfastened buttons revealed her prize to her. He sat up and shrugged out of the shirt the rest of the way, exposing himself to her.

She wanted to stare, wanted to drink him in and know every aspect, but his eyes caught her attention first. They were glazed over with desire, his brows twitching as he restrained himself. Her gaze shifted down to see his jaw working itself just as hard to keep himself from taking control of the situation. He was a man of extreme power and a prince used to getting his way. And Zoe Van Helsing stripped him of that. She made him beg, made him control himself, and she loved watching him underneath her.

“Zoe, let me see you, please,” he entreated quietly and brought his hands to her back. For a great warlord to be brought to his knees in such a state...she adored him for it. 

Never had she heard him speak with such reverence. For over a century, she wanted to destroy him and break the beast within human flesh. Her only goal had been to understand him, to know him, to strip him of all power and personal pride. She never imagined it would come in the form of devotion. Her name sounded like a prayer of sin on his lips and it was all she could do to keep her composure as he marveled at her.

“You bathed me, did you not? Didn’t you have your fill then?” Her accented retort was empty, meant only to tease. Dracula was a murderer, a plague on the earth, and a demon who stalked the shadows, but he was not without some form of honor.

“I could never have my fill of you,” he claimed in a tone that sent electricity down her spine. “But to answer your question, no. I would not take such advantage of you.”

She had not seen his hand move between them, but she felt it as his finger traced the outline of her under garments. They were hers, and as meticulous as the count was, she knew that he would have had them washed. A waste of detergent, if one were to ask her.

A breathy groan sounded in her throat as she shuddered against his finger through the fabric, rubbing herself against him, never once breaking eye contact.

“Especially when you are so willing to have me now.” 

She lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it, not caring where it landed. With her thoughts and body preoccupied, Zoe had not expected to be flipped onto her back so suddenly. In an instant he was above her. He stared down at her with an intense hunger she had not seen in the eyes of a man before, nor in the eyes of a vampire. 

Dracula dipped lower once he was satisfied with the sight of her and pressed a slow kiss to the nape of her neck. Zoe groaned as his finger still idly rubbed against the increasingly wet fabric between her legs.

Slowly, he made his way down her chest, pausing at her left breast to rake his teeth against her nipple. She wanted to look down at him and watch as he teased reaction after reaction from her body. A whine when he suckled at her breast was enough to evoke an equal groan from his throat before he trailed lower. All the while, his hand never left her core. Through every kiss over her ribs, every nip at her abdomen, he never let her forget how the cotton of her underwear was sticking to and sliding against her. 

She heard him swallow as he trailed his nose above the last remaining bit of clothing on her. How his breath was hot, she could not discern, but she was not about to think too heavily on anything other than finding ways to feel more of him.

He pulled away from her then and knelt on the bed before her. Finally, Zoe was able to set her sights on him, and what a sight it was. 

Count Dracula, furred chest heaving, cheeks redder than usual, dark chocolate eyes black as coal, was looking down at her with all the intentions of a man in the glorious throes of passion. She felt like a display, but she did not care. If she was to be a piece of art, then let his eyes be the one to understand it, for he was the painter.

“May I taste you?”

The question caught her off-guard and nearly brought her back to her senses. Only when she noticed the clawed finger hooked in her underwear did she realize what he meant. She had known his kiss on lips and flesh and could only imagine what his mouth would feel like between her legs. 

“Why ask? You already know the answer,” she huffed as she lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the fabric from her legs. The cold air of the bedroom crept between her thighs but she forced herself to keep them spread for him.

“Consent is the difference between man and beast. Desire is different from hunger in many ways and therefore has different rules,” he explained as he started to lower himself to her. “I need to know how badly you want every part of this.” 

Before he could make it down to her core, Zoe shifted upwards, moving to her knees in front of him. He sank back onto his knees, confusion written on his face.

“Then fair is fair.” 

She captured his lips as reassurance and kissed him with unanticipated fervor. Her fingers, though bony as they had gotten, made quick work of his belt and the button of his pants. The moan that should have escaped into the open air as her hand brushed against him was drowned into the kiss. He grabbed the back of her head, pulled her closer, and devoured her lips with his own, messy, unbridled, unburdened. Only when she was tripping up on stilling her hand at the zipper did she break from the delicious heat of his mouth.

“Allow me,” he whispered with lips hovering just a hair away from her own. She heard the zipper go down and backed up just enough to see the outline of his shaft in his onyx boxer briefs. He stepped off the mattress and pulled the slacks down to pool on the floor around his ankles.

Zoe crawled forward on the bed and sat squarely in front of him; it was her turn now.  
She splayed a hand on his chest, tangling her fingers in the black hair that lined it, and intentionally went as slowly as she could to the fabric. Fingertips dipped below the elastic band and Zoe smirked as she watched his abdomen flex involuntarily. So reactive, so _human_. 

She pulled him closer by the briefs and planted a kiss next to his hip. There was an energy to him from which the warmth came, she noticed, as she trailed kisses along the band; as though he had been his own conductor instead of attaining the warmth through the blood of his victims. She pushed the dismal thought from her mind and focused on the task at hand. Carefully, she lifted the fabric over his shaft and down his hips, leaving him to do the rest. 

At last, his cock sprung forward and she had to admit that it was entirely human, if not thicker and larger than the ones she had in her earlier life, and not that unattractive. She went to reach for it but found her wrist seized by the Count’s grasp.

“I believe I asked first,” he curtly stated as he bent forward, forcing her to move up the bed once again. He did not stop to kiss her, did not bother with a smart comment, or pause for a moment before he gripped her thighs and sank between them.

She felt his breath first, gasping at the way it tickled against the soft hairs she had long since thought to shave. She had been dying, who cared if she was neatly shaven?

Certainly not the Count.

Without preamble, Dracula swept his tongue between her folds, pressed it hard against her clit, and traced the sensitive spot a few times over. She reached down, breathy and lost in an instant, and twisted her fingers into the inky black hair atop his head, which only encouraged him further. 

She squirmed as his tongue, mouth, and teeth worked her over, probing her, tasting her, and driving her toward that proverbial edge that she could have jumped off of by now. But every time she found herself ready to crash around him, he changed pace and rhythm; and she could feel him smiling against her. 

“You’re getting off on this,” she groaned as he stopped to kiss her thigh and left her aching for release. 

“That is the point of what we’re doing, Zoe, yes. Besides…one...should….”

Before he could say anything more, and she quite well knew what he was going to say, Zoe pushed herself against him, grinding against his mouth. A silent order which he obeyed in a moment. He wrapped his arms around the outside of her legs, smirked at her, and dragged her to him as he once again knelt on the bed. Her legs wrapped around him, finding friction against his back as his lips gently sucked at her nub. All of the blood went rushing to her head and she could hear nothing beyond the slick sounds of his ministrations and her pulse thumping erratically in her ear. 

She writhed beneath him as he found a rhythm that had her shaking and gasping for air. Finally, she burst with a cry in a mixture of English and Dutch. She came hard against his mouth, twitching uncontrollably in the wake of her orgasm.

But he did not stop.

Dracula held to her tighter and rendered her immobile in his grasp. He drank her in as she came and made no attempt to let her recover from her first orgasm. Rather, he pushed her back down to the bed and went faster, curling his tongue against her clit enough to send a second orgasm crashing over her. A rugged groan fell from her lips as she tried to reach for him and pulled on his hair. She needed to kiss him, needed to connect with him, and share with him the explosive release that rocked through her body. 

“Dracu-- ple--...I n-need...” she panted as she reached for his hand and tugged. “Give me your mouth.”

He released his grip of her, both mouth and arms, and obeyed. She caught a glimpse of his mouth glistening with her release and watched as he ran his tongue along his lips and swallowed. Another twitch of pleasure rocked through her and she shivered as he closed the distance between them.

“You truly are exquisite,” he purred before capturing her lips.

She tasted herself on his tongue the moment he swept into her mouth and kissed her hard. Zoe pushed back in response, delving her tongue into his mouth and whisking away traces of her own release as she matched his force and pace. He took her already sore bottom lip and tugged it as he pushed his thigh against her center, causing her to cry out into his mouth. He lost her kiss as his head dropped to the nape of her neck and involuntarily rolled his hips at her plea. She felt his erection grind against her sweat-lined skin and wondered how much longer he could last without release. 

_“Lasă-mă să fac dragoste cu tine,”_ he breathed heavily into her neck and moved himself to align with her entrance. Zoe adjusted herself to allow him more freedom between her legs. She started to notice he spoke in his native tongue when he truly wanted her to understand him.

She realized then that this wasn’t a mere fuck to him. While by definition they were, in fact, fucking, he saw it as more, felt it as more. There was always something more with him, always something deeper, another layer to be peeled away from the ashamed warlord. She would unravel him to the bone before long. 

“You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” The question came as a teasing hum and he brought his head up to examine her face. The playful wickedness returned to his features as he searched her eyes. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about me growing soft any time soon, Zoe,” he noted glibly as he teased her entrance with his cockhead. It had been over a year since she had last lain with anyone and none of her lovers had been as prepossessing as Dracula. He was regal and there wasn’t a soul on the planet, living or dead, that could deny how he looked. 

“We’ll see about that,” she challenged and leaned up to kiss him. He met her lips for but a moment before sinking slowly into her, filling her to the brim and then some. She tried to keep her eyes on him, tried to watch as he finally took her, but could not stop herself from dropping her head into the mess of pillows below her.

Their shared dream could hold nothing to the actual feeling of him between her legs, carefully, but expertly, plunging himself deeper into her with each motion.

“Zoe, Zoe, look at me. I want you to watch as I take you,” instructed Dracula, his words thick amidst his growl so bestial she thought him entering a frenzy. 

When she looked up, she saw nothing of the sort. What she saw was a man succumbing to his own desires, breathing heavily and capturing her lips in hasty, firm kisses when he could. Dracula drove himself into her with abandon and focused entirely on her face as he searched for that one sweet spot that would send her world flying.

And he found it.

She arched into him, a drawn-out groan falling into the pillow beside her. Within a second after, Dracula had thrown the pillow and swept a hand under her back, lifting her into the air as he leaned back on his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deep, biting at his lip and not caring that she was finally able to pierce his skin. The snarl that came in response was reprehensible, but she reveled in the sound.

“That’s better.” His voice carried the same subharmonics as they had earlier, that same vampiric underscore that should have been frightening. _“Incredible.”_

He drove himself into her time and again, hitting that same spot over and over until her legs shook around him. She did not look away from him as her walls tightened around the impossible fullness inside of her. Had it not been for his hands at her back, she would have fallen to the mattress below in an instant. 

He pulled her closer, until her breasts were flush against the down of his chest, and rolled them onto bed. She thought he was going to release his hold of her, let her take charge, but his grip did not loosen. Instead, he thrust up into her, haphazard and chasing. His hand balled into her hair, giving her some room to adjust herself more comfortably atop him with his grip loosened, as he seized her lips. His kiss was hungry, demanding, forceful, and alone was enough to send Zoe over the edge once again.

And he went with her, hips bucking up as he came inside of her, groaning into her mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure seized them both as he slowed his movements inside of her, riding through their climax, before he released his hands from holding her in place.

Zoe let him go soft inside of her before she fell to the bed beside him. She was sore, dehydrated, but above all, satisfied, and a hum of approval sounded in her throat as she kissed his shoulder. 

“Zoe Van Helsing,” he sighed after a few moments of silence, drawing her closer to him. “What mortal man could have such a seductress in his bed and not do everything in his power to keep her there?”

“Men who don’t understand the importance or dangers of vampires, one can assume,” she returned dryly, tracing patterns amidst the thick hairs of his chest. “A person’s life work can interfere greatly with relationships, Count.”

“Greatness _is_ often squandered by lesser minds. You held yourself apart even before your cancer, Zoe. I tasted it on you. It had a very…” he ran his tongue between his lips thoughtfully, “...robust flavor. Herculean, almost. You are a wealth of knowledge and power and you wield it as both shield and weapon. It’s a quality that is intimidating to the unimportant. A scholar and a warrior.” 

How fortunate for Dracula that her aforementioned life’s work consisted entirely of him. She would never be rid of him, just as he would never be rid of him. Had anyone asked her three months ago if she was going to bed a vampire, her answer would have been a resounding no. Zoe had known only the horrors of him, the clever predator that stalked and toyed with his prey. She knew the monster. 

That was until Agatha seeped into her consciousness. The nun had completed her as their thoughts and memories synthesized into a singular existence. Possession was the wrong term entirely. Agatha had granted her wholeness in a way her work never could. She was Agatha just as much as Agatha was her. They were the same woman sharing the same soul. And together, they found the man within the beast.

“It sounds as though you want to make me a captain rather than a bed-partner,” she hummed as she shuffled closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. A contented hum sounded in his throat as he wrapped his arm around her to hold her naked form to his.

“Captain is beneath you. No, you would be my most successful general. I would trust you to move armies and then the world.” With his free hand, he swept her bedraggled hair behind her ear with a smirk. She shivered involuntarily when his claw gently grazed her scalp, her nerves still ringing with pleasure. “As for being my bed-partner, there aren’t many beds on battlefields. But I’m sure we’d make do.” 

The chill made her legs twitch and she could feel his seed sliding out of her. While it was not altogether unpleasant, she knew that she could not do much else in her current state.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a shower,” she declared softly and placed a slow kiss on his peck. “And while it appears you haven’t broken a sweat, I wouldn’t be opposed if you were to join me.” 

He shifted and let out a breath of laughter, a smile stretching so far on his face she could feel it against her forehead. She moved from his hold and laid her chest atop his and looked down at him to confirm her suspicions. 

“You are wicked,” came his playful tone as he lifted her atop him, her hands splaying on his chest to hold herself up. She knew the moment he searched her eyes he understood why she wanted to shower. That and the feeling of his cum sliding onto his own leg. “And I did make quite the mess of you.”

“You did and now I have every intention of undoing your hard work,” she chimed jokingly as she idly scratched at the hair upon his chest. She ignored the underscore of guilt she felt for indulging herself. Not twenty-four hours prior, her protege had lost the woman he loved twice to the man she now so intimately smiled upon. 

“I would expect nothing less from a Van Helsing. Luckily, I still have a few tricks up my sleeves,” came his hum of a reply as he shifted upwards on the bed, his soft cock twitching against her thigh. “Come with me.”

She moved off of him in time enough for Dracula to stand and watched how his muscles flexed underneath his skin as he stretched. He put on a purely self-indulgent display that was extended by his outstretched hand for her to take. Every part of her told her not to take it, not to humor him or feed into his ego, but she ignored her better judgment.

“If I recall correctly,” he started as he pulled her from the bed and onto her feet. Calloused hands came to rest at her hips, his fingers idly rubbing the skin under them. “You haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, Zoe.” 

She hadn’t thought about food. The idea had not even crossed her mind and she looked up at him, confused. He only smiled and started out of the bedroom. 

“Have you?” came her almost befuddled inquiry. Eating was not a conversation that ever had an outcome favorable to either of them. He stopped down the hallway and flicked a light on, smiling to himself at the sound the switch made.

“Yes, but from the reserves I have on hand. I didn’t want to leave you longer than I had to,” he explained without a hint of emotion one way or the other. His poor attempt at covering his emotions was seen through as she stepped closer to him and put a hand on his chest. He grabbed it, brought her folded fingers to his lips, and placed a whisper of a kiss to her knuckles. “You let me know when you’re ready for that shower, Zoe Van Helsing, and I’ll make sure you work up an appetite.”


End file.
